


Even Falsehoods Can Become Truth

by haraways



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: AU, Angst, Death, Future, Giving Up, Grief/Mourning, One Shot, Short, This is not Happy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-17
Updated: 2017-10-17
Packaged: 2019-01-18 13:57:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12389475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haraways/pseuds/haraways
Summary: “I’m sorry,” she whispered, “it was not enough, we were not enough. I was not enough.”





	Even Falsehoods Can Become Truth

The endless rows of graves starched out before her. Some glowing, alight with the names and dates of the long fallen. Some cold and dark of the long forgotten.

The ground under her feet crumbled to dust as she made her way one last time to that little hill. With a tiny clearing. Barley a hill. Barley a clearing. Once, long ago, the single grave that stood on that little hill, in barely a clearing, was a falsehood, a beacon of hope amongst so much despair. Guiding those who most needed it. But not anymore; even falsehoods can become truth, and other truths soon followed. Filling up the little clearing fare too quickly.

Before her, resolute against the stormy sky stood seven graves. These graves were no different then any other in the vast graveyard, those who they represented were no different in the end either. They all ended up in the same place.

Kneeling, in the dirt before them all; she began her apology.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, “it was not enough, we were not enough. I was not enough.”

A ratty breath, the taste of copper she’d become accustomed to making its self-known again.

“I tried, my god I tried, but I’m so tired now.” She clenched at the ratty brown cloak she had wrapped around herself, her green log gone, replaced instead with something black and purple, borrowed from a long-gone leader and friend.

“Sometimes the hero doesn’t win.” If she was decades younger, she would be crying now; but she had long ago stopped weeping.

“That, I’ve decided, is our reality. We aren’t supposed to win. In our quest for freedom, we only brought destruction. We never looked behind at the wake that followed where ever we when.  Defeat one enemy, another will soon take its place, the cycle viscus and bloody.”

Another breath in.

“I’m…done now. There’s nothing left to do.” She somehow felt the weight of a thousand worlds be lifted from her shoulders, admittance of defeat can be relieving to some who desperately need it. It was an out; a way to an end.

A deep ache in her bones demanded she lay down, but not yet.

“It’s about time,” a pause. “It’s about time I become the stuff of stars again.” On her knees, she forced herself to crawl towards the cold stones. She lowered herself to her side, looking out onto the endless lines of graves, curling in on herself as the wind whipped and the beginning of the rain began to fall.  She could smell the rich sent of the dirt under her. It was not Earth, nothing was like Earth.

As she lay, a few white hairs feel in front of her eyes, a reminder that it had taken far too long to get here, to the end of her road. Once, long ago, she had lightyears ahead, so sleep could not take her. Now though, she gladly embraces the sleep she had been fighting for so long.

 Fare over the horizon, a cold star rose, bring with it another cold day. And again, another, and another and another. And it kept on rising long have she rotted away. Long after the last grave’s light blinked out, long after the stones turned to dust, and long after still until there was no more horizon.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to review, I welcome them all


End file.
